


Together Once More

by wali21



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Resurrection, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29751621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wali21/pseuds/wali21
Summary: Tony is stuck. A new friend helps him out.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32
Collections: Proximity Flash





	Together Once More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sparcina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/gifts).



> Ahh, so I hope you like this little fic. 
> 
> Big THANK YOU to the mods for running this exchange.
> 
> THANK YOU to all who read/click this! You are amazing and make my day SO BRIGHT! I adore each and every one of you! <3!

He’s dead. At least he thinks he’s dead.

It’s hard to tell these days what’s real and what isn’t.

Sometimes a flash of darkness will explode in his vision and he’ll see something. A memory maybe. A glimpse into the future possibly. 

Morgan the most. Pepper occasionally.

Peter.

It’s not nice. Being dead.

They tell you all kinds of stories about peace and happiness and being with loved ones. But it’s not true.

All of Tony’s loved ones aren’t here.

They’re living.

Sometimes he thinks he sees Edwin and Ana Jarvis. His mom. Yinsen. Others that used to be important to him but are no longer alive.

He’s no longer around now either though. At least he doesn’t think this is death. Unless death is a cruel master.

Limbo maybe. That’s where he could be right now. A space between being alive and being dead. An indeterminate state of existence.

It would probably make some sort of sense if Tony believed in that type of ridiculous pseudoscience mumbo-jumbo. But after magic and Infinity Stones and murderous aliens, he’s not sure what he believes is true anymore. Perhaps he’s wrong.

That this is what death is like. 

His whole worldview is so fucked up. In his heart, he has always believed in science. In the strides science can achieve. The way it can change the human experience.

And yet, magic. And Infinity Stones.

Could this be one of the Stones? All of the Stones? Wrecking havoc on his body.

On his soul.

He has no idea. And that scares him.

What did he do to himself to save the universe?

***

He doesn’t sleep anymore. No need. No need for anything.

Just a wasteland of memories and mistakes and what-ifs swirling around in his mind hour after hour. Or at least he thinks they are hours. Maybe they are days. Years.

Time is just as weird as everything else here in this place.

He aches for the life he once had.

Morgan. Pepper. Peter. Rhodey. Happy. All the Avengers. Even the outrageous wizard and his sentient cloak.

Hell, in his darker moments he wonders if saving the universe was worth his death. And fuck does he feel selfish when those thoughts cross his mind. Sometimes he forgets what he has saved and only thinks of what he has lost.

Time is a heartless devil. 

He made the hard choice.

The right choice.

The _one_.

The sacrifice he knew was a possibility. Probability.

Someone was going to end it all. And he knew himself well enough to make sure he was the only one that needed to make that decision. That no one else needlessly died.

He is okay with the cost. Mostly.

He has been haunted for years by a potential future, torn apart by the unrelenting nightmares, terrified by the vision he witnessed might come to pass. 

It’s over now.

Nothing horrible happened.

And the universe lives on.

If only he could rest.

***

I watch.

And wait.

And question.

And decide.

Why that one?

Was there a mistake?

Will correcting it work?

Yes, yes, yes.

I will fix everything.

No need to worry little human.

***

Tony does not remember shutting his eyes. He rarely needs to blink anymore. He has no need to do anything anymore.

He only waits.

And he suffers.

And that is all.

***

One day Tony wakes up. He does not remember going to sleep. There is no need to sleep here. And yet he knows he was sleeping.

It’s weird.

Tony shakes it off.

It’s nothing.

The day?

The week?

The month?

The year?

It goes by once more.

***

Don’t give up little human.

Stay strong.

Stay brave.

And believe.

I am coming soon.

I will solve this challenge.

I will fix what is broken.

It might take a few tries.

But I will do it.

I must now.

I will keep watch.

***

Tony wakes once more. He still does not remember going to sleep. But he must have. It has to be a delayed reaction to this place. Or a weird fluke.

He dismisses it once again.

Sleep is not required in this place.

He tests this hypothesis for days. Weeks. Or maybe months. Or years. 

He tries to mark the flow of time but it disappears, slipping through his fingers as if it never existed.

No sleep here means no more nightmares.

At least, that’s what Tony first believed.

And yet, they still plague him.

Only now they deal with living.

Missed chances. Unspoken words.

A happy ending he’ll never have.

Not anymore.

Here he stays.

***

I’ve figured it out little human.

Soon.

Soon.

Just hold on.

I will get you.

Endure.

Think.

Hope. 

And believe.

It will only take time.

And I am Time.

***

Tony wakes once more. He rubs sleep from his eyes, a foreign feeling. 

This time he knows it’s not a coincidence.

He analyses the times he believes he sleeps. Consolidates the information.

Sees the pattern easily now that he’s looking. 

Something is happening. Something good, hopefully.

He starts to hope.

To believe.

Soon.

Soon.

He will finally rest.

***

The next time Tony wakes, he doesn’t open his eyes right away. He savors the moment.

A moment of bliss.

Something inside him tells him this is different. He isn’t in that place anymore. Stuck in a never-ending, ambiguously confusing reality. Distraught by the waking visions that live inside him, mixing in with the rare glimpses of the enjoyable fragments of his life or the future he will never experience. A combination of hopelessness and happiness that can drive a man insane.

No.

This is different.

This could be peace.

He sighs.

Finally.

Finally.

He can rest.

Until a loud, shrieking noise unexpectedly sounds.

Tony startles. He jerks upwards, snapping his eyes open.

Shocked, he looks around.

He’s in an apartment.

In a messy bedroom.

In a bed.

With a bedmate.

One that is currently hidden beneath the soft covers. His bedmate rolls over, arm flailing in the air, at last grabbing at the offending phone and shutting off the blaring alarm.

Tony isn’t used to loud noises.

Only the sound of his own voice.

And only when he needed to drown out the voices in his head.

This wasn’t exactly what he imagined when he thought of peace.

It didn’t come with noisy alarms or a bedmate or a normal enough looking apartment.

His bedmate’s curly mop of hair appears from beneath the covers, followed by the rest of his face and a partially naked chest.

It’s Peter.

Tony would know Peter anywhere.

And that right there, in bed with him, is Peter Parker.

An older Peter Parker. But undeniably Peter Parker.

This must be a dream.

Right?

Or, or, a…Tony has no clue.

Nothing like this would ever happen.

He wouldn’t want it to happen anyway.

Right?

Fuck.

He’s not going there.

And this of course is when Peter rolls over into Tony’s side, face landing on his covered thigh.

Tony tries not to startle again. But he doesn’t succeed.

Peter looks up, one hand rubbing at his eyes, the other clutching at the smooth blanket over Tony’s body.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter croaks out. His body is still lax, seemingly unaffected by the fact that his once mentor and fellow Avenger is currently alive and in bed with him.

Tony doesn’t know what to do.

“Peter?”

“Hi, Tony. Haven’t seen you in a while. These are the best dreams.”

“Yeah…about that. Pete, I don’t think this is a dream.”

“Of course it’s a dream, silly. You’ve been dead for ages.”

“Ages? How long is ages?”

“This is really weird. Usually, by this point you’re kissing me. This is such a weird dream. What’s with all the talking?”

“What? What do you mean kissing? I’ve never kissed you.”

“Of course, you have. You always kiss me in my dreams.”

Tony stares speechless at Peter.

“Now, c’mere, give me a good morning kiss.” 

Peter puts his hand on the side of Tony’s face and gently tries to pull him down for a kiss.

Tony resists.

Barely.

He doesn’t want him. He doesn’t want him. Of course, he wants him. No. Can’t think like that. Won’t think like that.

He’s just a kid. He’s just a kid, Tony.

Except the man before him is no longer a kid.

Peter looks him in the eyes and pouts.

He will not think that’s a good look on Peter. He won’t.

“Please give me a kiss?” Peter asks, sweetly. He bites at the bottom of his lip, slowly letting it slide from between his teeth.

Tony can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the blatant display.

A sly smile crosses Peter’s supple lips. He tilts his head up, leaning in closer.

Fuck.

Tony needs to get out of here.

Right now.

He removes Peter’s limbs from his body, getting out of the bed, and stands looking down at the boy. No. Man, now.

“No, no kisses.”

“Why not? This is my dream and I want kisses.”

Tony attempts to figure out what might have happened to him. But it’s hard to think with Peter looking at him like that, hair disheveled from a night of sleep, staring at his mouth in hunger.

He rips his eyes away from the temptation Peter makes sprawled across the bed and examines the possibilities of his sudden manifestation in Peter’s apartment.

Why is he not in that horrible place anymore? Why is he not finding a sense of peace someplace far from here? Why is he in this ordinary apartment with Peter?

Maybe this is his dream?

No, that doesn’t make any sense either. He doesn’t dream anymore, only experiences nightmares.

And this is obviously not a nightmare.

He doesn’t arrive at any other viable conclusions. Nothing fits with the little he does know about the place he was kept. All he knows right now is that this doesn’t feel like any dream he’s ever had.

This feels real.

“Peter, listen to me. I don’t think this is a dream.”

“We’ve been over this, it’s obviously a dream. Man, what did I do yesterday that created this really weird fantasy?”

“Fantasy? Kid, just – hush.” Tony replies sternly, waving his arms around.

“I want kisses. And no more talking. Unless it’s dirty talking.”

Tony almost has a coronary at those words.

“Peter! Stop it!”

“Come back to bed.”

“I think it’s better for both of us if I stay right here.”

Peter pulls down the covers, showing off his bare chest and legs, skimpy boxers twisted from a night of slumber. Tony rips his eyes away but it’s too late, the image is burned into his brain forever.

“Fuck.”

“Yes, good plan. C’mere and fuck me.” 

“No! Stop that. No fucking. No kissing. No half-naked Peter.”

Tony attempts to pull the blanket back over Peter’s body but Peter fights him, batting at his hands, pulling until the blanket is wrinkled. He tries again but with Peter’s powers he easily wins. 

He is trying really hard not to think about the fact that Peter fantasizes about them together. But seeing all that bare skin on display is really testing his willpower.

Maybe this is his fantasy.

One he always knew he had.

And wanted.

But buried it in the deep recesses of his brain somewhere, locked away to keep him from acting on his desires. To keep himself from yearning for someone he couldn’t have.

And if it’s a fantasy of his suppressed longing, nothing matters.

Right?

No consequences.

For just a single heartbeat he contemplates getting back into that bed with Peter and seeing what happens.

Allow himself the freedom to feel those beautiful lips sliding against his own, caress all that bare skin that is just waiting for his fingers to explore. Get to experience the slide of his clothed body rubbing up against Peter’s half-naked one, hands gripping and stroking and joining them together. 

But even if this is a fantasy, a hallucination, or whatever else it could be, Tony isn’t that man.

Has never been that type of man. 

He’s still married. And has a lovely daughter. A family.

And he absolutely does not think of Peter in a sexual way. No. He doesn’t. He can’t. He stuffs every thought and desire for Peter back into that box in his mind and shuts it, sealing it tightly.

Fuck, this is clearly reality.

“Get dressed, Pete. Meet me in the kitchen.”

Tony walks out of the door and goes in search of the kitchen.

He doesn’t look back.

***

Tony stands in front of the counter with his back to the open doorway, coffee merrily brewing away like his whole existence hasn’t changed completely.

He needs answers.

And there’s a man in the next room that can provide some of them.

He waits.

“Tony?”

He turns around, leaning against the counter’s ledge, trying to attempt a lazy, relaxed pose.

It doesn’t work.

His entire body is tight with tension, facial muscles stuck in a grimace. 

Peter comes out dressed in a tight, white T-shirt and sweatpants that hang off his little hips, showing way too much skin for Tony’s comfort.

Not that he’s looking.

No.

He takes a deep breath in and out. In and out. Just like he used to practice.

“Tony?

“Peter.”

“What’s going on?”

“I have no idea. I thought maybe you could tell me.”

“Are you really here? Here, here?”

“Looks like it.”

“Not an illusion?”

“I don’t think so.”

“A dream?”

“Pretty sure we’ve established this isn’t a dream, Peter.”

Peter’s face turns an interesting shade of pink but he doesn’t take his eyes off of Tony for one second.

“You’re alive? Truly?”

“Seems like it.”

Great heaving sobs fill the kitchen, Peter dropping to his knees, hugging his arms across his chest. Tears start slowly sliding down Peter’s face, long, trailing rivulets that stain the top of his shirt wet. 

Tony doesn’t know what to do. He wants to go to him, comfort him in some way, and yet if he touches him maybe he’ll disappear. Maybe all of this will disappear.

And he’ll be back there. In that place.

Tony’s fear keeps him motionless.

Something in him breaks watching Peter shatter in front of him. He wants so badly to go to him and yet his feet don’t move.

Peter calms down slowly, gasps still stuttering out of his lungs, silent tears quietly flowing, marring his cheeks.

“How – how are you alive?” Peter chokes out, wiping at the tears, smearing them across his face.

“You’ve got me, kid.”

Quicker than Tony’s brain can process, Peter is up and running towards him, launching himself into his arms. He grabs at Tony, pulling him into his body, giving him a tight hug. Maybe a little too tight, Tony can barely breathe. But he just wraps his arms around Peter and doesn’t let go.

They can figure everything else out later.

***

When they finally part, Tony wants to go to Morgan immediately. He needs to see his daughter. He needs to hold her. Tell her how much he missed her. Communicate how much he loves her and how he never stopped thinking about her. Never wanted to leave her. 

But something stops him.

His gut tells him to wait.

That he has time.

First, he needs to know what happened.

He needs to know who he is now.

What he is now.

If he really is Tony Stark, flesh and bone.

Alive once more.

If all of this is real and not some construct of his fucked up mind. That he’s not still stuck in that liminal space, misery his only company.

Waiting and waiting and waiting for a peace that will never come.

And he needs to know why. Why is this happening to him? 

Tony asks Peter to contact Doctor Strange. See if this was part of an enchantment he performed. If his magic is responsible, if it revived him.

And to ask the most important question on Tony’s mind – why?

Peter tries to call but the wizard doesn’t answer.

Stupid Bleecker Street Magician.

This is all his fault, he just knows it.

It’s not uncommon for Strange to ignore his phone according to Peter, a pattern he’s learned in the years since Tony’s been gone. Doctor Strange only shows up when he wants to or when the world is ending.

Peter leaves a frantic message, telling him it’s urgent and Tony snatches the phone away from him, yelling at the voicemail, hoping that’ll make Strange respond sooner.

Now, they wait.

Tony is so tired of waiting.

But it doesn’t matter. Strange doesn’t respond.

***

Tony devises another strategy in the meantime.

One based on facts. On science.

Instead of ridiculous magic tricks.

He needs tests. A whole bunch of them.

A way to confirm he’s alive. A way to verify his new resurrection isn’t an accident. That he won’t be back there the next time he closes his eyes. 

Surprisingly, Peter has the means to run those tests.

Down the hallway there’s an unassuming door, looking just like every other door in his apartment.

But what rests inside is anything but ordinary.

Peter presses his hand to the center of the door and a scan runs over his whole body, a soft clicking sound taking place right after the scan completes, and the door swings open.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., lights, please.”

The bright lights activate and Tony gets a glimpse at the interior. It holds a giant, beautiful lab, tables upon tables fill the space with a multitude of interesting objects and half-finished looking prototypes.

“You have F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Yeah…Pepper gave her to me. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay, Pete. But what happened to Karen?”

“It’s a long story. Better saved for later,” Peter’s voice changes, a weird mix of sorrow and something else Tony can’t quite decipher. He’ll definitely be asking about that story when he gets a chance.

Tony looks around.

The workshop is packed with all kinds of equipment – a mix of gadgets, beakers of colorful liquids, and a giant holographic display panel in the middle of the room. The walls are covered in movie posters and sealed comics in their protective casings.

It’s exactly the kind of lab Tony imagined Peter would have someday.

Smart, nerd chic.

Turning towards Peter, he smiles widely.

“This is great, Pete!”

“Thanks. It took a lot of time and effort to make it exactly right but I wanted to be able to have a lab close, you know? Just in case I had an idea I needed to work on as soon as possible.”

“I know the feeling well.”

Peter smiles back, looking happier than he has since he woke up and saw Tony in his bed. 

“Okay, what kinds of tests do you want to run?”

“I think a full body scan first. Run against the DNA that should still be in the Stark Industries’ system. Unless F.R.I.D.A.Y still has access to my data. Then medical tests. Put that big brain of yours to the test.”

Peter blushes, turning away and walking over to the panel Tony saw earlier.

He follows.

“Stand in the middle of the room, I’ll have F.R.I.D.A.Y start the first scan.”

“Sounds good.”

Tony walks over and stands where Peter mentioned, letting his body relax for the first time since he woke up here.

He’s in a lab with a bunch of fancy equipment scattered around, ready to run an experiment that could change everything he knows.

He feels like he’s home.

***

Once the first test is done, an analysis of his body composition and other basic measurements, Peter puts them in the computer and they wait for F.R.I.D.A.Y to complete her assessment.

It’s nerve-racking.

The waiting.

Always waiting.

Tony is so sick of waiting.

It’s all he does these days.

Wait for the nightmares to end.

Wait for that suffocating place to disappear.

Wait for peace.

None of that compares to waiting to see if he’s still real.

Alive.

A chime sounds and her voice gives Tony hope. With any luck, not false hope.

“Analysis complete.”

Peter hurries over to the interface, eyes scrolling through the results quickly.

“Boss?”

Tony thinks F.R.I.D.A.Y is speaking to Peter. But Peter doesn’t respond, he only looks at Tony, expectant.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Boss, is that really you?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“According to all data on file and the recent scan, all evidence points to you being Tony Stark. The exact same Tony Stark.”

Tony lets out a long breath, head tipping back, closing his eyes. He shudders.

“But Tony Stark died in 2023.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You are physically the same age as you were in 2023. I do not understand, Boss.”

“You and me both, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

Nothing is conclusive yet but just hearing that he really is Tony Stark, back from the dead or whatever that place was, lifts a burden he didn’t know he was carrying. He is a bit shocked about the physical age part of the equation but he can only guess at why that’s a factor in his resurrection.

It doesn’t matter right now anyway.

“Okay, let’s run the rest of them.”

Peter only nods, a smile lighting up his gorgeous face.

Tony is so happy he doesn’t even think about how he shouldn’t be calling Peter gorgeous. Even in his mind.

They stay in the lab for hours, running every test they can collectively come up with and so far all the data that’s come back looks promising.

Tony doesn’t know what to do with himself now that this might all be real. He falls back to what he knows – he runs experiments.

Peter and Tony stay in the lab until their stomachs are growling and they take a break for a really late dinner.

The smile that Peter is sporting never goes away. Only seems to grow bigger with every test that comes back with a positive result.

Tony can’t help but smile right along with him.

***

While they wait for their meal to arrive, Tony asks about Morgan. About Pepper. About the amount of time he was gone and what has changed in the world.

About Peter’s life.

Peter tries to answer as many questions as possible but he looks afraid every time Tony opens his mouth to ask another.

He hears all about Morgan. How smart and funny she is, the trouble she causes, the boys and girls she dates. Peter appears to have an endless supply of facts and memories with her that he shares with Tony.

The first time she had a sandwich from Peter’s favorite deli.

The ceremony when she graduated high school and the crazy, lavish party that followed.

The one and only time she took a swing around the city with him.

Every question Tony asks comes back to a story or memory about Morgan.

He tries not to be jealous.

He’s not even sure what he’s jealous of exactly. The lost chances and missed memories with his daughter or the way Peter obviously adores her.

Or maybe it’s something else.

Maybe it’s about Peter.

And the missed chances with him.

Maybe he’s jealous of his own daughter.

Tony shakes himself out of those thoughts, nothing good comes from psychoanalyzing himself. Especially when it comes to him and his feelings for Peter. He learned that lesson a long time ago.

Tony realizes early on that Peter only mentions himself and what he’s done since Tony’s been gone in broad terms, never giving too much detail unless it happens to be a story involving someone else. And even then it’s more about the other person that it is about Peter’s experiences.

Peter barely mentions being Spider-Man.

About bad guys or his college experience or a significant other.

There’s just a blank there. Missing pieces.

Tony is worried.

He wants to ask why Peter isn’t sharing more about himself. But part of him knows deep down there’s a good reason. And that reason can only be that his time since Tony’s been absent hasn’t been rainbows and unicorns.

A secret he’s not willing to share. Something that transpired, changing him in a fundamental way. 

Tony knows all about events that transform a person.

He doesn’t bring it up. Just listens to whatever Peter wants to tell him, letting his soothing rambling distract him.

Tony wants only happiness for Peter.

And if happiness means not bringing it up, he can do that.

He can.

No matter how much control it takes to keep his mouth shut.

He focuses on other things, like how Pepper has moved on, married to someone else. That one hurts less than he thought it would. But he’s not surprised. He’s happy for her. She always deserved better than him.

He thinks about Morgan and the fact that she’s all grown up. About Happy and Rhodey creating their own families and living lives they enjoy. And how the Avengers still live on, new people replacing the older generation, able and willing to be what the universe needs.

He knows life goes on. He knew what he was doing that day on the battlefield and the consequences of his actions.

He concentrates on the stories and tidbits Peter does share about the people most important to Tony and about the larger world outside. Things he missed that are important. Mainly pop culture or science related. Tony smirks, it is such a Peter thing to do, keeping him updated on the newest Star Wars and the advancements in nanotechnology instead of world politics or Avengers bullshit.

Tony listens avidly. 

***

Dinner is consumed slowly, the questions and stories told between bites of delicious cuisine.

Peter breaks out a bottle of wine to go with their dinner but Tony refrains from partaking. Wine was never his drink of choice. He’s surprised Peter likes it. He takes delicate sips, twirling the glass in his hands.

Tony can’t stop watching his fingers.

He looks away once he notices he’s been staring.

It means nothing. It means nothing. It means nothing.

He thinks of something else, anything else, but the long fingers so delicately fingering the stemware, the flick of tongue peeking out with every sip.

Shit.

He is so screwed.

Tony closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in and out and goes back to eating his food.

He doesn’t remember the last time he ate. The mix of spices on his tongue with one bite, the sweet and salty flavors flooding his senses with another.

It’s overstimulating in the best possible way.

He savors every mouthful.

And stops his inappropriate thoughts.

Mostly. 

***

Peter cleans up the leftover food and takes care of everything in the kitchen while Tony walks through his living area, looking at photos and running his hands over little knickknacks here and there.

Tony is so tired. And he needs his sleep if he’s going to see Morgan tomorrow.

When he opened his eyes this morning, he never thought he’d be here, spending time with Peter, and experimenting on himself.

“Peter, I’m exhausted. You got a bed I can sleep on? And something else to wear?”

Peter comes out of the kitchen, fiddling with his hands. He reaches back with one hand and scratches at the back of his neck.

“Uhh…so there’s only one bedroom. No room with the lab and all.”

“It’s fine, Pete. I can sleep on a couch for one night. Got a blanket and pillow I can borrow?”

“No! You take the bed.”

“Why don’t we just share? We did last night.”

“You still want to? After this morning I thought you’d rather not.”

“It’ll be fine, Peter. You thought you were dreaming, it happens.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

They get ready for bed together, Tony changing into something more comfortable, and borrowing a toothbrush and toothpaste.

A routine he never expected he’d miss.

When he looks over to Peter on the other side of the bed, he seems nervous.

Tony climbs into the side he woke up on and waits for Peter to join him.

It takes a few moments but soon the bed depresses, Peter’s weight displacing the mattress. Peter reaches over and shuts off the bedside lamp.

Together they lay there in semi-darkness, the moon shining into the room from the windows.

Tony turns to face Peter.

The moonlight highlights his striking features, giving them a softness that’s missing in the daytime.

These aren’t exactly new feelings. But he’s just a kid. _Was_ just a kid. And anyway there was Pepper. And he loved her. Loves her still. Maybe. 

But that never stopped him from feeling things that he had to bury deep inside, keep them locked away because they’d never happen.

Peter didn’t see him like that.

And anyway Tony was too old for him. Too fucked up. 

Maybe in some place in the multiverse there’s a version of them that met under different circumstances, that didn’t carry the baggage they both possess, that didn’t become superheroes, and lived normal lives. Maybe that Peter and Tony fell in love and made it work.

Tony is daydreaming again.

He hopes that an alternative universe like that exists.

That he’s happy somewhere out there.

That’s his last thought before his eyes fall shut, weary body and brain falling into slumber.

***

Tony awakens slowly, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He enjoys the moment.

A moment of pleasure.

There is a warm body in his arms and he feels happy. He grins, hiding his face in his partner’s back.

When he does open his eyes, he remembers everything that happened. Remembers yesterday. Remembers all the time before yesterday.

A little bit of that happiness bleeds out of him.

But then he remembers something even better.

He’s in bed with Peter.

His arms around the one person he wants them around forever.

Peter wakes, turning in his arms.

They lock eyes.

Peter looks freaked out. Like he’s responsible for the tangle of limbs that are happening beneath the covers.

“Tony, I didn’t mean to – I swear. I know you don’t feel like that about me.”

“What’re you talking about, Pete?”

“My feelings for you. Like yesterday, with the whole mistaken dream thing,” Peter’s face turns that fetching shade of pink again.

“I thought that was just a fantasy. Childhood hero stuff.”

“Once maybe. But not for a long time.”

“You mean you have real feelings for me?”

“Yes, of course. I love you, Tony. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Tony is shocked. Is this another dream? Peter saying everything Tony wants to hear.

But no. It’s not a dream. Peter feels real in his arms.

“Peter.”

“I’m sorry! I promise I’ll –”

Tony cuts him off with a gentle kiss.

When he pulls away, Peter is smiling.

“I love you too, idiot.”

Tony smiles back.

This second life thing isn’t so bad.


End file.
